


Plotting

by daniko



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-14
Updated: 2011-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:19:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniko/pseuds/daniko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts are mascot for inter-House unity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plotting

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> As these things usually go, it started simple: I think every author should have all the basic clichés in the fandom to their name, with the appropriate twist (I’m fairly there isn’t one here) and I set to write mine. Then, it changed on its own. Here’s the result. Enjoy! ;)

Despite the circus that was his life, Harry Potter never quite expected to be back to living in a tent so soon. In fact, he never expected that Snape, Headmaster once more, would be so mean to the point of assigning a – _evil, wicked_ – detention over such a petty fight.

“If you insist on behaving like children, then you shall be treated like children,” Snape had said. “Fifteen points from Gryffindor and Slytherin, and a fortnight assisting Hagrid with his _blasted_ —er, Blast-Ended Skrewts,” he finished triumphantly.

Harry had thought it wouldn’t be so bad; he liked Hagrid and he didn’t mind manual work. He should have paid attention to Snape’s calculating smirk. Even McGonagall had laughed when Harry reported to her for being given a detention. He really should have known better.

***

“Unbelievable!” Malfoy exclaimed for the umpteenth time. _Absolutely preposterous_ , Harry mouthed at the same time Malfoy declared, “Absolutely preposterous!” Harry sighed. “Given detention like a recalcitrant first-year!” Malfoy harrumphed. “As if those unicorns weren’t enough, now we must spend our nights in the wild. In a tent! With each other!”

Harry ignored him and adjusted his Omnioculars. Not that it helped any. He had never been assigned a more useless, pointless, absolutely _tedious_ detention. Who cared if Blast- Ended Skrewts killed their young minutes after they were born? Shouldn’t that be a good thing? Apparently, it wasn’t and Harry and Malfoy were supposed to send red sparks to the sky if anything happened. Although Harry wasn’t sure how he was supposed to realise that anything was amiss if Blast-Ended Skrewts behaved like blood-thirsty gladiators, at best, most of their time.

Malfoy finally finished fidgeting with whatever it was inside the tent and came out to sit beside Harry near the entrance, a blanket thrown over his shoulders. Harry adjusted his own. “You know, Potter, the point of a conversation is that you reply with something other than troll grunts. I understand the confusion, though, that with spending your days surrounded by Gryffindors and Weasleys and all that—.”

“Shut up,” Harry hissed, elbowing him on the side, before taking a peek to see his reaction at Harry’s dare.

Malfoy just smirked, apparently vindicated at finally extracting a reaction from Harry, before continuing casually, “So, did you see anything?” he asked, unwrapping whatever he had retrieved from the tent. Harry snorted, and shook his head. “Well, we can still hope. They might come to their senses and start killing their evil spawns. I don’t get Snape’s detention. If they’re killing each other, shouldn’t that be, like, a good thing?”

“You know that animal cruelty is a sign of evilness, don’t you?” Harry shot back, just to be contrary.

Malfoy chuckled openly and Harry found himself flummoxed just like to half a dozen of times it had happened lately. “I’ll take that as agreement, shall I?”

There was a loud popping sound and Harry turned to see that Malfoy was uncorking a bottle of Firewhiskey. “What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?”

Malfoy smirked smugly. “If they want us to spend the night monster-sitting, I’m going to get something for my troubles. I’m willing to share, Potty,” he said, before taking a swig.

Harry wanted to say no, he really did, but damn if he was bored out of his mind; drinking with Malfoy seemed as good entertainment as any. “Fine. Give it here.”

Again, he should have had more sense.

“. . . and don’t you dare judge me,” Malfoy slurred, “I only did what I thought it was best for me and my family. I don’t regret anything.”

Harry nodded gravely. He could understand that. Except, “Yes, but don’t you think that telling a four year old Parkinson that no one was ever going to love her, a bit too much?”

“What would you have done if someone was threatening you with a lifetime of Parkinsons as your in-laws?” Malfoy demanded. “My poor mother. And hey, I got a good friend out of it.”

Harry laughed. “You were lucky, that’s what you were.” Just like Harry used to be. “I wasn’t very lucky as a child.” Malfoy clicked his tongue in sympathy. Harry found it very sweet of him to care. “My relatives were god-awful and now I can’t get a date for the life of me. It seems my luck was only meant for the greater good.”

Malfoy was looking at him attentively. “Do you know . . . that you have very pretty eyes, Potter?”

Harry felt himself go warm and took another sip of Firewhiskey to keep himself busy. “Er.”

“I notice that the first time I saw you. I remember thinking, ‘Wow. That kid looks odd. Odd-looking eyes.’ It was a while before I realised that odd meant beautiful in pre-pubescent thinking. They look especially beautiful when you’re sad. It sounds terrible, but it’s true. You should have seen yourself after you ended the Dark Lord.” Harry looked down. "On another hand, the whole lot of you,” Malfoy waved a hand, “looks especially fetching when you laugh.”

Harry choked back a laugh, and Malfoy smiled, seemingly satisfied at his reaction. “Then I found out you were Harry Potter,” Malfoy continued, eyes incredibly wide, “and I thought, ‘Well, damn! What is Father going to do about it?’ But you turned me away, so in the end there was nothing to do anything about.” Malfoy bit his lip, before turning his back to Harry.

Harry was confused for a moment, and that was when he heard it. It sounded like . . . . “Malfoy? Malfoy, are you crying?” The sniffling sound came again, higher. Harry looked around frantically for something to do about it. When he found nothing, he saw no option but to put his hand on Malfoy’s shoulder and tug gently. Malfoy sobbed harder, and tried to shoo Harry away. “Shit, Malfoy, don’t cry. I hate when girls cry.”

Suddenly, harry found himself on his back, Malfoy perched above him, red-rimmed eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do I happen to look like a girl, Potter? Do I, you inconsiderate oaf?”

Harry looked around for a way out. Just like before, he found none. “Uh.” But he got no further, because Malfoy’s eyes got round and big again, and they brimmed with tears. His eyes were really very light, but not cold at all. How could Harry have ever thought so? “Uh,” he tried, but luckily his train of thought was interrupted by Malfoy placing a hand gently on Harry’s cheek.

“I want to be your friend,” Malfoy told him solemnly. “I like you.” Harry got very warm again and almost burst a vessel when Malfoy leaned in and rubbed their faces together. “You’re really quite cute. Don’t you think I’m cute, too? I think I am.” Harry nodded. Malfoy always looked perfectly groomed and his smirk always made Harry’s blood run faster. “Hmm,” Malfoy purred, “can I kiss you?” Harry saw no reason to refuse him.

***

Harry woke up with the sun’s glare on his face, coming through the tent’s skylight. He also found that he had a rather nasty headache. It was only a moment later that he realised he was naked beneath the fluffy blanket. A second later, he was aware of an equally naked body next to his; curled around his, actually, and there was an unmistakable hardness rubbing against his backside. His rather sore backside. Harry’s heart tightened in horror. What had he done?

He could tell the moment Malfoy got his bearings. His body tensed impossibly and he practically wrenched himself from Harry, sitting up straight, and wincing when the light hit his face. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Harry tried his best to melt into the blankets and disappear. Suddenly, Malfoy turned back, eyes wide with shock. “ _Potter_?” Harry closed his eyes and prayed for oblivion. “Oh, shit, Potter! Tell me I didn’t—did I?”

Harry really, _really_ , didn’t want to deal with him right then, so he stayed silent. Until he felt hand trailing intimately up his thighs, then feeling around for the opening. “What the _fuck_ , Malfoy?!”

Malfoy snatched his hand back as if it had been burned, cheeks very pink. “ _What_?” he demanded, straightening himself. “You weren’t answering me and I wanted to check if you were all right. It would be just my luck to put the Golden Boy in shock for having defiled him against his will. It wasn’t against your will, was it?” he asked, looking very afraid of the answer.

It might have been that Harry remembered Malfoy’s awe-filled flattering the night before, or that he looked genuinely concerned, but Harry closed his eyes against the smugness he was sure he would see in a moment, and shook his head. “Oh,” Malfoy breathed.

Harry’s eyes snapped open when he felt Malfoy curl behind him again. He glanced back at Malfoy, but he was diligently mouthing the back of Harry’s neck. “What are you doing?” Malfoy mumbled something, his ears as pink as Ron’s when he was embarrassed. “What was that?”

Malfoy looked up with a glare. “I said I was hoping for an encore. Did you get it now?”

Harry scowled. “Really? What makes you think— _oh_!” he exclaimed instead, when Malfoy filled Harry with his fingers. He pulled Harry’s leg up to rest on his elbow, opening Harry further and stroking him from the inside. “That—that feels really good.”

Malfoy fingered him shallowly. “Yes, quite,” he sighed. “I believe I just found my favourite place on Earth.” Neither said much for a long while after that.

***

Harry spent the rest of the day ignoring the arousing reminder of Malfoy's sexual expertise and trying not to fantasise about what would happen that night at detention. He tried to distract himself.

Of course, Hermione would have never believed Harry was truly, really interested in his Charms textbook. “Did something happened, Harry? You look distracted. More so than usual, I mean,” she tried casually, while filling her plate. Ron’s head came up from his plate to look at them in concern. “If you want to tell us that is.” Her tone was mild, but the innuendo was crystal clear. Ron looked confused now. Harry felt caught. Did Hermione even know about Malfoy?

Harry was prevented from replying by _someone_ slouching himself on the seat next to Harry’s. Ron got very red in the face. “Granger, Weasley,” greeted Malfoy. Harry rubbed his forehead to ease the tension. “Why, Potter, stressed much? I just wanted to say hi.”

Harry glared. “Hi!” he gritted out. “Now, go away!”

“Don’t be rude, Potter,” Malfoy admonished. “I actually wanted to ask Granger what she thought about last Arithmancy class. I have a few questions for the teacher, but . . . _what_?”

Despite the fact that Harry and Hermione – and half the Gryffindors at lunch – were staring at Malfoy like he had just grown another head, it was Ron who spoke, “You’re seriously trying to make nice with us, you git? Who are you screwing? It’s not my sister, is it?”

“Hey!” protested Ginny, dislodging Dean’s mouth from hers for a second.

Malfoy ignored her and actually looked mildly green. “No. I _promise_ you it’s not your sister.”

Hermione had her eyes narrowed. “Harry,” she began warningly, “please, _please_ , tell me—.”

“If you don’t mind, Miss Granger, you shall leave this adolescent matter for later,” drawled a silky voice from behind Harry. All heads turned to see Headmaster Snape looming over Harry and Malfoy. Nothing new there. “Now, it seems two younglings were killed last night. Weren’t you two supposed to prevent that from happening?” he asked dourly, but the look on his eyes was more a warning than a reproach. He gave Malfoy a look.

“Uh, right,” Malfoy hesitated, brow furrowed in contemplation, before his eyes got very wide and his mouth very round, and he straightened himself. “Actually, sir, Potter and I kept watch the entire night and we did see something,” he glanced at Harry, “odd.” Harry’s breath hitched at the smouldering look Malfoy gave him before turning to Snape again. “There was a gathering of Skrewts at some point, but we did not find anything unseemly. We’re sorry.” No, he wasn’t, Harry thought.

Behind Snape, Hagrid burst into tears and McGonagall patted his arm reassuringly, and it was the victorious look in her eyes that finally clued Harry in. He saw her exchange a glance with Snape. “Well, that’s a pity,” Snape said. “We thought we could prevent the little mon—creatures from this self-destructive behaviour, but—.”

“Actually, sir,” Malfoy interrupted, with deceptive casualness, “Potter and I believe that it might not be the Skrewts killing their young.” Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously. It was Malfoy’s time to give Snape a pointed look. “Don’t you think, Potter? Remember those odd,” Harry felt himself heat up again, “noises we heard? There might be something to it.”

“Really, Harry?” Hagrid asked inconsolable. “Yer really think there’s a way to save ‘em?”

Snape and Malfoy were staring at each other, and Harry briefly wondered who was going to lose the match. Harry felt a bit bad for lying to Hagrid, but he decided that Blast-Ended Skrewts were a threat to everyone’s integrity of mind and body and that he hoped they had a long life in hell. That was when he decided to take a page of Slytherin’s plotting book and glanced pointedly at McGonagall, trying to tip the scales towards their side. “I don’t know Hagrid, but it’s worth a try. Besides, Malfoy and I still need to finish our detention, right, Professor?”

Something passed between the four of them. Harry could tell the moment McGonagall and Snape forfeited. They had much more at stake, didn’t they? Snape sighed. “I think you’re right, Potter. Maybe it’ll do you two some good to spent a whole fortnight in that tent,” he smirked, “for inter-house bonding and such. Maybe when you return, you’ll be far more manageable.”

Harry smothered a smile, but it got harder to do so when he noticed Malfoy’s smug smirk.

The moment was broken by Hermione’s clearing her throat loudly. “I think this is a prime example of inter-House unity,” she said tetchily and the teachers had the grace of looking contrite. “You should be proud of your Blast-Ended Skrewts, Hagrid. It seems everyone is bonding over them.”

\- The End –

**Author's Note:**

> In case you missed it, it’s ‘Harry and Draco go camping, get drunk and make peace (and love, hee)’.


End file.
